


Michael: Fall Back and Push Forward

by JustALilSnail



Series: 1000 Ways to Tell the Stoll Brothers Apart and I Can Name You One [34]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Author’s self-indulgent wish fulfillment for some angst, Book 5: The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson), Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Connor Stoll uses his powers, Gen, Second Titan War, Tragedy, Travis Stoll uses his powers, canon character death, hurt and a little bit of comfort i guess?, michael POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustALilSnail/pseuds/JustALilSnail
Summary: At 16, Michael dies. At 16, he sees Travis and Connor guiding souls to the underworld. At 16, Michael finally remembers that Hermes isn’t just a messenger.
Relationships: Michael Yew & Connor Stoll, Michael Yew & Travis Stoll
Series: 1000 Ways to Tell the Stoll Brothers Apart and I Can Name You One [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1284746
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	Michael: Fall Back and Push Forward

**Author's Note:**

> References to chapter 33 (Skill)

# Michael — Listen

Michael (16) - Travis (16) - Connor (15)

August 2009

During The Last Olympian

* * *

" _I'll come back."_

That's what he promised to mom, right? What he said? The very last thing he said?

" _I'll come back."_

The bridge is unstable.

" _I'll come back."_

The pillar he's sitting at is too wobbly. It's going to collapse.

" _I'll come back."_

Percy is signaling for him to get off and to get off _**now**_.

" _I'll come back."_

But there's a demigod on the other side, nocking an arrow with eyes locked onto Percy.

" _I'll come back."_

Percy, who is the leader. Who will guide them out of this mess. Who has done so much. Faced so much. Who's been carrying a weight none of them can understand. Percy, who deserves to make it to the very end. To live to the very end and be happy.

Annabeth took a knife for Percy for a reason even though Percy was on a fucking roll, fighting like he's invincible. Maybe he's not so invincible. Maybe, like Annabeth's stabber, the others know how to take Percy down too.

Michael can't let that happen.

Percy is going to live and Michael is going to teach Percy how to finally shoot an arrow straight.

He spends five more seconds, getting an arrow ready and shooting it into the demigod's chest.

" _I'll come back."_

Then he slings his bow over his shoulder and starts descending down the bridge.

" _I'll come back."_

He knows before he even takes his first step down.

He's not going to get off on time. He's not going to make it. He's going to die. He's out of arrows. He can't zipline down to safety like he normally would. It's too far. He can't climb down that fast. He can't fly or jump or do some crazy parkour to land himself in safety.

He's not going to make it.

He's going to die.

" _I'll come back."_

 _Don't give up,_ his mom screams, screeches, begs in his mind. _Try. You have to try._

His four siblings cry in his head too, pleading, _Please, Mikey!_

Try. Try try try try trytrytrytry _try_. _**Try.**_

" _I'll come back."_

The last ropes holding the bridge up snaps.

_I'll come back._

He's falling.

He's not going to make it.

_I'm going to die._

No, no, no. Fight. He'll come back. He _promised_ them. So _fight._

Throw the bow. Try to place it on the ledge. Your siblings will know you fell. They will search for you. Just survive the fall and the rapids, survive not breaking your bones, survive not drowning, then you can finally watch High School Musical with your family, teach Will and Percy how to shoot an arrow accurately, listen to Austin geek over his Youtube channel one more time, watch Kayla train for the Olympics, fight Clarisse over dumb shit, scrabble with Travis and Connor over dumber shit, tease Sherman for his crush on Miranda. _Survive_ and he can do all of that.

But he hits the rocky sides of the ravine headfirst — hard, disorienting, probably concussed now — before falling into the rapids below, sinking under the fast currents and water filling his lungs.

* * *

He thinks he must have fallen unconscious or passed out or something. By the time he opens his eyes the blue sky is all red, the air a bit dusty. Everything looks faded and bleak. He's lying on his back beside the ravine Percy opened up, feet dangling over the edge. Will, Kayla, Austin, all his siblings are gone. Michael stands and looks for his bow. He knew he tossed it here somewhere. He looks. And looks. And looks. Along the ravine's edge. Around the ravine. A few feet away from the edge. Something's wrong. It's gone. His bow nowhere to be found. Nothing is to be found exactly. No blood. No dust. Not even stray and broken arrows. And Michael _knows_ he broke at least three and tossed them aside. Did his siblings really take it with them? For what? Repairs? Those assholes. It's just arrows. They can always make more.

"Michael?"

Ah finally. A person. One of the Stoll brothers. Standing alone in the middle of the car-littered street in the typical orange shirt and bronze armor. Michael runs up to him, ignoring the way the other counselor takes a step back.

"Where is everyone? Are they all okay?" he asks.

Travis, Connor, he still can't tell them apart after all these years, but his co-counselor doesn't answer. Instead opting to keep staring at him with a disbelieving glint to their eyes.

"What?" he says, irritation piling up by the second as Travis or Connor just continues to stare. "What is it?" He's still just staring and Michael has enough. He snaps his fingers in front of the eyes. "Come on. We don't have all day. We're in a middle of a fucking battle in case you didn't notice."

At that, Stoll finally snaps out of it, shaking his head once. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Come on. Let's go."

Then he's taking off down the middle of the street, walking fast and rigid. Michael follows beside him, cautiously. Travis… Or Connor, whichever one he's with, they're usually a bit more chatty, a bit more loose-limbed. "What's wrong with you?" Michael questions, "Did something happen?"

"What? Nothing happened! Everything is peachy! Everything is fine!" The high-pitched laugh says it's anything but fine. "But I could go for a run or some strawberry ice cream right now. Or just strawberries. I am starving. What do you say about taking a detour before we meet up with the others? For old times sake?"

Michael squints at the son of Hermes, who suspiciously keeps his eyes forward. "Are you Travis?"

"You've known us for two years and you still can't tell us apart? That's pretty sad, Mikey." But Travis nods to confirm, still not looking at him.

"You're acting funny. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Travis lies again, walking faster.

"Stop with the bullshit. Something is wrong."

"Nothing is—"

Michael darts in front of Travis, the son of Hermes just barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with him. "Tell me the truth. What happened? Is it Will? Did something happen to my cabin?"

Travis's head is lowered. It's hard to see his face. But Travis's fists curl by his side, tight, before forcibly relaxing. And when Travis picks his head up, there's the usual carefree, does-not-gives-a-fuck expression Michael is used to.

"Michael," Travis says, "how do you feel?"

"Fine. Great even. Now tell me what's—"

"No sores? No pain anywhere?" Travis pushes.

Now that Travis mentions it, he feels perfect. No aching. No pangs. No bruises. Not even a scratch or drop of blood on him.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Falling.

He was falling.

The bridge. Shooting an arrow. Climbing down.

Falling

Into the ravine.

He hits something, hard and rocky.

Then water.

The struggle to breathe. The panic. The flailing.

And then—

"I'm dead, aren't I?"

Travis turns his back to him, stares at the fire-tinted sky. "Yeah," he mumbles.

Dead. He died. He's dead.

_I didn't make it._

_I won't be coming back._

Michael swallows, tries to collect himself, blinks hard at the tears he can feel are coming. None of it works. Plan B. Distraction. Focus on something else. Anything else.

"Are you dead too?" Michael asks.

"What? Oh, no, my dad leads souls to the underworld but he's kinda busy right now fighting Typhon so we're doing it for him. Everyone is at the Empire State Building right now, resting. Connor and a couple others have the drachmas for the ferry fare. I'm just leading all the wandering spirits to them."

"Shouldn't you be resting too?"

"Too wired for that," Travis says with a high-pitched laugh. "I raided a convenience store a while ago and downed like ten Monster drinks. Probably won't sleep for like a week. Don't tell Will, but I did not pay for the drinks."

"That's not healthy."

"Yeah, I know. Connor took away the remaining five or so I was going to drink. Totally unfair. Speaking of unfair, you're not going for rebirth right? If you are, then before you reincarnate could you tell Beckendorf that he was mean to boobytrap his chest box? Like, yeah, it took Connor a day to figure out how to open it but spraying pink dye _and_ glitter? That's cruel."

Michael's lips twitch upwards. He remembers that well. Serves them right though for not respecting the dead. "Yeah, I could pass the message for you."

He could see it before Travis could start. The way he twiddles his thumb, the side-eye away, the scratching of the cheek. "... Speaking of messages, do you want me to—"

"No."

"But she's your—"

"Drop it, Travis," Michael snaps and Travis did, shrugging but not without a mumble, "At least I tried."

Travis starts walking again, to the Empire State Building, and Michael falls into step beside him.

Travis talks. About Beckendorf. About his fight on the Brooklyn Bridge. About Lee. About Annabeth's stab wound and her near death. About his dead siblings. About Connor. About his ex-cabinmates he saw just now. About herding enemies and friends alike along in this boundary state of life and death. Travis talks. And talks. And talks. And Michael listens dutifully, doesn't allow himself to think of anything else.

They near the building. The streets remain empty. But Travis waves at empty air and laughs at a joke that isn't there, responding to someone he can't see or hear. He wonders if his cabinmates are nearby. He wonders if they're okay. He wonders if they know he's dead. He wonders if one of them, any of them, will tell his mom and siblings. That he's dead. That he won't be coming back. That he's a big, fucking liar and an asshole and an idiot and incompetent and a screw-up and a—

"We're here. Connor is over there." Travis points to the entrance where Connor sits on the curb, bags of drachmas by his side. "I'll be going now. Lots of other demigods to herd over here. Ciao."

Travis about faces and walks away fast. In a fleet of panic, Michael turns too and utters, "Wait. Can you tell my mo—" but he chickens out. He cows under Travis's stare. He turns back around and mutters instead, "Watch over my cabin. Especially Will. I better not see any of them for a long, long time or… or I'll kick your ass."

"Okay," Travis promises, "We'll watch over them. You can count on us. I'll die before I'll let anything happen to them."

"That's not what I—" The words fall on deaf ears. Travis is gone, running down the empty street in a blur. God, he hopes he didn't just jinx Travis's fate. He already feels shitty enough.

Michael trudges to where Connor is sitting on the curb, a cheek on his hand and seemingly bored. But the way his eyes twitch ever so slightly to the side and the way he flips a drachma towards an empty space, the coin disappearing in thin air, the way Connor's face grimaces for a second before gathering itself back into impassivity _,_ he's anything but. And when the blue eyes fall on him, Michael watches them go from surprise to grief to weary to forced indifference, all in two seconds.

"Hey," he greets, coughing once to get the lump out of his throat, "Can I have a coin?"

Connor glances down at the drachma in his hand. Then he glances up at him. And grins. He fucking grins.

"Sure," Connor says, standing slowly, "But for a price."

"What price?" But Michael knows. Michael can see it just the same way he saw it in Travis.

"What do you want to tell your mortal family?"

"Nothing," he grits out. "I don't have anything to say."

"They deserve to know," Connor reasons, needlessly. "Especially since you left them in the worst way possible."

"I know that," Michael snaps. "I was there."

"So? Your message?"

"I saw you handing out the coins without any of that bullshit. Why are you hassling me?!"

Connor shrugs. "Consider it penance for bothering Travis on your first day."

Michael darts forward, intending to just take it by force but his hands phases through Connor's clenched fist like he's Casper the Friendly Ghost. Connor steps back and rolls the drachma across his fingers, grinning all the while. _Come and try again._ Michael can literally hear the taunt even if Connor doesn't say anything.

Damn it. Damn it. _Damn it._

"Fine. Fine!" Michael yells, "Tell them that I'm fucking sorry. I am so fucking sorry I lied and I can't even do something as easy as staying alive. I'm sorry for leaving without really saying goodbye. I'm sorry I screwed up so bad. I'm sorry for never accomplishing anything. I'm sorry for not becoming someone to be proud of. I'm sorry for doing absolutely nothing in my life. I'm sorry, okay?"

His half-siblings pop into mind. He's leaving them without saying goodbye too. He's leaving them when he's still needed. He's leaving them at the height of the fucking war… but the last battle if they win this. Better not here for the peak then absent for the entire year. Better to die like this then live shamefully and cowardly behind closed doors, wandering if his dad's side of the family is doing okay, if they're struggling, if they're even alive.

"I don't regret it. I don't regret what I did. Even knowing that I die, I wouldn't change the choice I made."

Connor smiles mirthlessly. "For what it's worth, I think your family would be proud of you."

"Yeah, yeah, you got your message. Make Chiron deliver it. I don't know how my mom will react and at least Chiron is immortal. Now give me the damn coin," Michael grumbles and holds a hand out, palm up and definitely not sniffling. "You better not join me in heaven. I need at least five decades, maybe a century, to get over what an incredible asshole you and Travis are. Come any earlier and I will literally kick your ass."

Connor rolls his eyes. "It's called Elysium and demigods live on average to 21. It's probably lower if you exclude the outliers."

Lee, died at 19. Beckendorf, died at 18. Castor, at 17. Then that new hunter of Artemis he never met but heard stories about, 12. Oh god. All his friends are going to die young. The only retort Michael can come up with is, "Well, try. I don't want to see your ugly mug."

Connor rolls his eyes again, but he's earnest when he says, still with that languid grin, "I'll miss you, Mike," Then his hand, dangling over his, opens up.

 _Me too,_ he tries to say but then the facade drops. Connor turns away but not before Michael can see his face crumpling, caving in. The tears made him freeze. He hesitates. He wavers. The coin lands in his palm before he could say anything and Connor is gone, replaced by thousands upon thousands of the dead all stumbling towards the ferry.

* * *

Michael sees Lee and Beckendorf as he waits his turn to board the ferry. It's just their outlines, faint and far, far away, but he knows it's them. And god, it's been so long since he saw Lee. For Beckendorf, it's only been a couple days, but the wave of grief it brings is fresh. They're petting Cerberus, he thinks. Beckendorf is waving a toy around for two of the heads. Lee is strumming his guitar, leaning against the last head who listens with contentment.

He'll pass by them on his way to be judged.

He wonders what they'll say when they see him.

Or should he just sneak by without saying anything and then surprise them at heaven's gate or something?

He's still contemplating what to do when there's a flutter of wings landing beside him. A note is pressed into his hand. Hastily scribbled in Greek. Half of it is unreadable.

"From your dad," whispers the wind, before it's fluttering away just as fast.

* * *

_Hey, Michael. I was going to visit ——— entered the Underworld. Uncle Hades ———— come willy-nilly except for Hermes. But Artemis said if I leave right now, ———Typhon ——— barely contained, she’ll sic her ————on me for all of eternity. Even now, as I am writing this, Artemis is giving me the stink eye. She doesn’t think———————————— but I’m proud of you——————you’re a hero—————I love you._

—Apollo

**Author's Note:**

> my god Michael’s parts are finally done. I had all his written before Miranda’s but I couldn’t piece it together in a way I like. So I just worked on other fics. It took over a year but it is done! I can finally start working on my other daydreams! It’s been so long… I already graduated college and started working hahaha. 
> 
> Also I took some massive liberties when it comes to portraying guiding the souls to the underworld and whether the people in Elysium can leave to give Cerberus some TLC. I like to think you can, but I don’t really know for sure if Riordan said otherwise and I hope he never does. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! I probably won’t update until next year so I hope the rest of 2020 goes well for you guys.


End file.
